Fledgling Phoenix
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: Before there was rampant destruction and aimless cruelty there was a redheaded young woman who had no idea of what was to come. A retelling of the Phoenix saga. ScottJean. ON HIATUS, SORRY TO ALL FANS. IT WILL BE FINISHED, BUT I DON'T KNOW WHEN.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: My first comicverse story. Will be Scott/Jean by the way. :) Please let me know what you think of it.

* * *

_

_The world is going to end._

_No point in making a fuss._

"Jean?" Jean Gray shook her head slightly, clearing if of cobwebs. She'd been too busy lately. She turned to look at Scott.

"Hmm?" As soon as she said it she saw that the younger kids they were chaperoning at the Museum of Natural History were moving on with Storm and Hank. She'd been standing staring at nothing for the past couple of minutes. She blushed slightly.

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's alright…" He said, sounding uncertain. "You okay?"

"Just daydreaming."

She had been too, she insisted to herself as she walked away with a dubious Scott and doubts of her own. Though she couldn't remember what she'd been daydreaming about.

_After all, fighting what is to come isn't going to change a thing._

_Might as well admit it._

Jean's eyes opened, as she was started out of the half-awake, half-asleep state, between dreams and awareness. What had woken her up? There weren't any unusual noises, no flashes of lightning or booms of thunder, no busy cars on the mostly deserted street outside the mansion. She shrugged, sighed, and fluffed her pillow into shape. Unable to get back to sleep, she took a silent walk down the corridor, muffling her footsteps with her telekinetic powers. Unknown to her a worried Scott watched her from the doorway of his room, sitting up in bed and wondering what she wasn't telling him.

_Armageddon. Catastrophe. Crash and burn. _

_Death. Power. Evil._

_What it boils down to is that the entire world is going to end._

"Jean? Jean?"

Jean started again, an abrupt jump. "What?"

It could be called a snap, but Jean didn't snap. Annoyed reply. Sharp retort. Not a snap. Never a snap.

"You were standing in the middle of the hall. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Standing in the middle of the hall? Why? She had lessons to get to, kids to tutor. This was college (for her anyway) for Pete's sake.

"Jean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing Scott. You're being silly." She said it calmly, smoothly, but her hands were shaking. It didn't escape his notice.

"Jean." It wasn't exactly a question anymore.

"Lay off."

The confused twenty year old watched as his friend walked briskly off down the hall. What was so important that she couldn't tell him? They were best friends, right? Right.

Right…?

* * *

_Burning. Cinders. Ashes._

_Come on, get it through your thick skull._

_Life on this planet - this planet itself - is **over**._

"What - !"

Breath coming in frantic gasps, Jean sat straight up in bed, staring wildly around the nondescript room she shared with Ororo Munroe. To her right her roomie was peacefully snoring (imagine if the rest of the students knew that Ororo Munroe, the serene "goddess", snored) to her left, her dresser sat calmly to her right, the window above her bed let a small shaft of moonlight slant down onto her red hair. It shone.

"This planet itself is…over. Over?" She murmured to herself, trying to capture the words that the ironic sounding voice had been saying. It was a harsh, grating voice, but that was all she remembered it saying. "This planet itself is over."

"Sorry, what's over?"

It was Scott's voice, startling her so badly in her already jumpy state that she almost screamed. She managed to muffle it and turn it into a furious hiss. _"Scott!"_

"Sorry, sorry!" He said, backing up with his hands up, palms towards her. "I was… just wandering by on my way to the…kitchen, and I heard -"

"You're a really bad liar Scott."

"I know." He admitted, blushing slightly. "I've been following you for a couple days. You've seemed a little…spacey lately."

"The last couple of _days_?" And she hadn't even noticed. She really had been out of it. If she hadn't picked up on him stalking her around the mansion with her TK powers, she really should have just noticed that he was everywhere she was. And come to think of it, he had been. Kitchen, Danger Room, classrooms (well he was in all her classes she supposed), tutoring sessions with the kids, grocery trips. Coincidence? Duh: no. She groaned.

"Jean, look, there's something wrong you haven't been telling me. I just want to help. Can't you tell me what it is?"

"Nope." She said, trying to sound jokey. But he frowned. "

"Why not?"

"Because I don't even know." She confessed, staring at her hair, which was still glimmering in the moonlight.

"What?" He was just confused now, not angry or annoyed or even miffed. Just confused.

"I mean, this…spacing out I've been doing. I've got no idea what causes it. I don't remember anything from it. I just…wake up sort of. When you wake me up come to think of it." She looked at him wryly, trying to make the news a little more lighthearted. But Scott looked worried. Well, more than a little worried.

"You don't _remember_? Jean, you should have told someone!"

"Oh come on, it's only happened a couple times!"

"Eleven times in the last two days." He pointed out, very serious.

"Eleven!" That was a lot more than she even remembered. Then, something occurred to her. "You've been keeping a count."

Like the straight laced, shy guy he was Scott stared at his feet. "Well, you're my best friend Jean. I mean, I know it's a little weird, following you everywhere, but I was worried about you, and -" He seemed, she reflected, to be apologizing.

"Scott." She said, holding up a hand. "I think it's sweet, once you get past the stalker part. Actually, taking the motive into account, that was pretty sweet too."

She smiled at him, wondering if she ought to ask him just when she'd spaced out those eleven times. But that wasn't really a direction she wanted to take the conversation in when it could go somewhere much better.

Jean leaned forward, closing the gap between Scott and herself to just a few inches. She didn't need to say anything really. Snappy or romantic lines had deserted her though they never seemed to do that to the heroines in romance novels. There had been almost kisses before. So many times before, under more ideal, untroubled circumstances. Times when she hadn't been having strange space outs, odd daydreams, troubled nightmares. But those had been broken off with embarrassed mutterings and excuses. Somehow now was perfect.

She was never sure which one of them closed the remainder of the distance between their faces, nor was she sure it mattered. No matter what, it was perfect.

She just _was_ his girlfriend after that, and everyone knew somehow, without having to ask at all.

* * *

_A/N: Should I continue? Let me know, 'k:) Oh, and for one really cool Scott/Jean fic, check out _Loving You, by Tashasfic. 

_Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Scott, Jean, the X-Men, Marvel, or pretty much anything else you recognize. Only the ideas are mine._

_If there's interest in this story I'll explain a little more next chapter where and how it is set, and what timeline it follows. Thanks. _


	2. Chapter Two

_A/N: Well, I figured if people wanted this to continue, it should continue. Timeline explanations are at the bottom. Please let me know what you thought. :) Here's the second chapter…_

_

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_  
**Almost Exactly One Year Later…**

Jean couldn't stop smiling.

There was probably something wrong with her cheek muscles, she reflected. Maybe they'd gotten stuck this way from smiling to much. Or maybe that weird fluttery, elated feeling in her stomach was manifesting itself this way, to stop her from exploding with jubilation. It was four 'o clock in the morning and she was no less sleepy than at four 'o clock in the afternoon. She couldn't sit still. Moving around was pointless. She couldn't sleep.

Gold with a diamond in the middle. Simple, elegant, and gorgeous. In her opinion, the prettiest engagement ring in the history of… absolutely everything. And that goofy smile just kept creeping on to her face. Sometimes she tried to stop smiling, just to see if she could.

She couldn't.

That morning, not even tired from her all-nighter (which had involved doing nothing but playing with the engagement ring of course) she slipped out into the corridor. Excited (beyond excited) as she was about all this, she wasn't sure how to tell anyone. She was a teacher now (the minute she'd graduated her college courses, one year early as many students here did, she'd been hired) and she knew all these people quite well. But what did you do exactly? Just go around flashing the ring at people? Waltz up to your friends and say something along the lines of, "Hi, I'm getting married. So, how's your morning going?". Or did you make some kind of announcement?

Jean finally just did absolutely nothing about it, which turned out to do the job all on its own. Apparently people - well, girls especially - had some kind of _radar_ for engagement rings. The minute she walked into the kitchen, or so it seemed, Ororo's eyes widened and her mouth formed an "O".

"Oh Jean! You said yes!"

That seemed to Jean to be skipping a good part of the conversation, concerning what the ring was, who'd proposed, and how it had happened, but she didn't mind.

"Yeah." She nodded, blushing but smiling all the same.

"That's so wonderful!" Ororo wasn't given to squealing, but this was as close as the goddess ever got to a squeal. Or even a screech. Throwing her arms around her red-headed friend, Storm spun them both around in a gentle whirlwind, Jean's goofy smile reclaiming her face. How could she keep it contained?

"Oh Jean, this is so fantastic. I'd been wondering when he'd ask, and it's…It's **great**."

Jean couldn't disagree.

All over the mansion that day, people congratulated her. Bobby Drake collected money from his friend John, known as Pyro. "Told you." He taunted. Apparently, he'd won a bet.

Jubilee and Kitty came skipping up to her, demanding to examine the ring and know all the details, stiffness between student and teacher broken as they babbled on. "I _knew_ it!" Jubilee crowed, and she and Kitty exchanged high fives.

Professor Xavier stopped by her classroom. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her to finish teaching her lesson. When it was done (the effects of Shakespeare on modern literature) he rolled in.

"It's fantastic Jean." He told her, a firm smile in place on his face. That goofy grin claimed her mouth again. "The entire mansion has been holding its breath since Scott bought the ring."

"What? You knew?"

"Well, inquiring minds will find out what they wish to know. I did not sleuth it out myself - I believe some of the students did. Kitty and Jubilee were two of the foremost culprits I believe. They snooped through Scott's grocery bags and found it hidden between the eggs and the ham."

Jean looked at her ring in a whole new way. The Professor laughed. "Congratulations Jean. I wish you all the best."

Later that night, Jean spotted Scott sitting on a bench. He looked awfully thoughtful, and she slid into a seat next to him.

"Having second thoughts?" She asked, a wry smile twisting at the corner of her lips. He started and turned to look at her. "Or maybe you're hearing weird voices in your daydreams?"

That was okay to joke about now - it had stopped only a few days after she became Scott's "official" girlfriend and hadn't reoccurred since. An entire year almost exactly.

He laughed. "No to both."

He turned to her seriously. "I'm just…thinking about all this. Marriage. That's a big deal I guess huh?"

"I guess." Jean said, sensing Scott was serious. They really were second thoughts then?

"It's not that I don't want to marry you or anything. I just hope I can…I don't know… Take care of you I guess."

It was like falling in love all over again. He was a… words failed her. He was a _really great guy_. Gee, how poetic.

"First of all Mr. Summers, I can take care of myself." She said, trying her best to sound snappy.

"Oh I know you can!" He sounded horrified, and his face said something along the lines of, "Oh God I've screwed up already!"

"And second," She continued, her voice softening, "I have the utmost confidence that you'll be able to take care of me just fine."

* * *

_The world is going to end._

_Just deal with it._

Jean sat with her head in her hands, a raging headache claiming most of her capacity for thought. A silent tear trickled down her cheek. This wasn't fair.

She could feel the engagement ring digging into the skin of her forehead, but it was just a reminder. Just a reminder of the fact that this was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life. Joyful. Blissful. Not haunted by strange, frighteningly real nightmares.

What was she going to do? This hadn't happened in almost a year. Checking the clock she saw it read "12:01." Exactly a year now. It had been a year since that first kiss, and they were engaged. Kind of poetic. At least, it would be, if it hadn't been for the fact that she was hearing strange voices in her dreams - and daydreams.

It wasn't made any better by the fact that she remembered every word the voice had said, because they were terrible words.

She sat there on the edge of her bed, crying, and wondering what in the world you did when anonymous voices in your head predicted apocalypse.

* * *

Jean was a mess for the next week. 

She constantly told herself that she would tell someone -- Scott, Ororo, Hank, the Professor -- but somehow something always got in her way. She had to go grocery shopping, she had to study, she had to...

In truth she didn't _want_ to tell anybody.

She could still remember the look on Scott's face that year ago when she'd explained her daydreams to him. Granted then she hadn't been able to remember them, but it was no better now that she could. He'd been shocked and then rapidly horrified -- not a look she wanted to encourage on people's faces. And the longer she waited the more she could picture the scene. Added to the stunned expressions would be words like, "Why didn't you tell anybody sooner?"

Not that those words wouldn't mean well, but they would slip out of friendly, caring mouths, and she would flinch.

She really did mean to tell someone all week, but she didn't.

If she was a little more stressed or withdrawn for the first couple of days, well, at first nobody said anything. She did her best to tell herself nothing was wrong, and most of the time it worked.

It worked until the voice came again.

It would strike at unexpected moments, and she would be left standing stock still and staring off into space until the voice stopped again. She'd glance around, turning faintly red, and continue on with what she was doing hoping no one had seen.

She could handle it, and repeatedly told herself so, until she really almost believed it.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

Well, she doesn't really like to go there.

* * *

_A/N: Now, about that timeline:_

_Basically, here's the deal. This is based on the comics Phoenix saga, however as was asked in a review, yeah, I am influenced by the movies. There are some ideas in the movies that I really liked, but I was originally (and always will be) a comics devotee. I read the original ones, from the late '70's and early 80's. So I'll be taking ideas from both the comics and the movies. Hopefully, everything will be fairly self explanatory. If anything is confusing, please let me know. I want to improve this writing!_

_As for the actual timeline, it's before the movies if that's what you're familiar with, and in the comics it would begin around the time Jean became Phoenix, though without that particular event._

_It's going to be a fairly AU story, as Jean's transformation into Phoenix will be one that is of my own invention._

_Lastly (sorry to make this long), a quick WARNING: There are **no happy endings guaranteed**. I definitely can't make any promises. The Phoenix saga was never a happy one. I can't promise bliss for our couple or for Jean as an individual. In fact, I can't promise that when this closes they will (necessarily) be alive. No, I'm not into depression just, well, if you've read the original comics, you'll know things didn't go well for them. Just thought you should all know. _


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Jean had come to a decision.

It had taken only two days of frantic phone calls, confusing catalogues, and impossible store workers who were absolutely no help at all.

She wouldn't wish planning a wedding on her worst enemy.

It didn't matter who they were, or what they'd done. No one deserved this chaos. Add to the mix sudden migraines accompanied by whispering voices that constantly informed her that the world was coming to end and, well, it hadn't been a good week.

Jean pressed her fingers to her temples and prayed silently that the voice could just keep quiet until she finished deciding on a color scheme. For something that was supposed to be so happy this was hard!

She chanced a look at the clock and groaned. It would be another two hours before she could plausibly call off this wedding planning using the excuse that she needed some sleep.

"Problems?" Inquired an amused voice from behind her, and she turned to find Scott.

"Why is it," she asked, annoyed, "that you always disappear whenever a wedding catalogue shows up?"

"Because you're sooo much better at this sort of thing?" He tried, dragging out the o's in 'so.'

"Nice try." She retorted, gazing in frustration at the pages before her. Blue and white? Pink and white?

"How about because I'm not so great at the whole 'seeing colors' thing?" He suggested, tapping his visor with his index finger. Jean felt a twinge of guilt. She shouldn't have said anything. But then she looked up to see the look on his face. She could read him like an open book. He still just wanted to get off the hook.

"Better." Was all she said.

"We should break the mold and do something wild." He told her, glancing down at the pages. "Orange and silver. Chartreuse and day-glo blue." He was trying to make her laugh and she could tell already that it was going to work.

"It's a plan." She retorted, grinning. "It should be chartreuse and silver. Really throw them off."

"Absolutely." He told her, sitting down on the chair next to hers and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

Pain. Searing pain. And a voice. A whispering, confident voice...

_When are you going to learn that the end of the world is impossible to avoid?_

_And that I am impossible to ignore?_

She drew in a sharp breath and turned to see Scott looking at her, concerned. "Are you all right? Something wrong?"

"Nope." She said lightheartedly. "Just tired."

He looked at her for a moment longer and then seemed to shrug it off. "Fair enough. Take a break."

"I think I will." Jean said, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in her head. "I'm going to see what's on T.V."

Jean hated T.V. She thought it was mindless. And since she could do so much with her mind she disapproved of letting it rot.

Scott watched her walk out of the room, concerned.

On the surface it made perfect sense. Wedding plans would make anybody stressed, or so he'd heard. Worrisome. Difficult.

But he knew Jean.

And something was going on.

Jean flipped through the T.V. channels. PBS. CNN. Disney. She stopped there. They were showing Mary Poppins. Just as good as anything else on. She watched idly as some kind of tea party on the ceiling ensued, and slowly let her eyes drift closed.

She really should tell someone. Really. But much as she tried to persuade herself, to work up the courage, she couldn't. Why bother? What, after all, could anyone do?

It was probably just the stress. The stress of planning a wedding and teaching. That plus being a telepath. Maybe it was some kind of telepathic illness. Get overly stressed, hear voices in your head. Evil voices. Predicting apocalypse.

She heaved a sigh. When she didn't even believe her own fabrications it was sad.

But what else could it be? There was no reason for voices to talk in her head unless she was going crazy – and she wasn't. She'd know.

Wouldn't she know?

Yes, she decided. She would know.

It must be the stress.

Headaches were perfectly common when a person was stressed. Even migraines. So she watched as Mary Poppins danced on the rooftop with a bunch of chimney sweeps and told herself nothing could possibly be wrong.

* * *

For the next week Jean went through her life with the premise that the migraines (and the voice) resulted from stress. She took a self-enforced vacation. She got out of the manor as much as possible. She avoided wedding plans. She avoided people she knew. She volunteered for grocery and post office runs. And, almost to her surprise, nothing happened. The little voice only awakened a few times, her headaches were minimal. Overjoyed she promised herself to take it a little easier and went back to her regular routine, and the wedding plans (in moderation). 

But it came back.

She almost cried in frustration when, at 11:00 PM at night she awoke to a pounding headache, and a repeating voice in her head.

_You'll try. You'll fail._

_Try._

_Fail._

_The world is ending._

She stared into the blackness of her room, her heart throbbing and her chest heaving. Suddenly her room was unknown to her. It was dark and all the old, familiar objects became sinister and foreboding. Suddenly she was panicking. Her breath came quicker and quicker. She thought the headaches, the dreams, the voices, were over. Done. Through. But it was back. She couldn't stop it...

The room seemed to be blacker than it had ever been before. Even the moon was obscured by clouds, the stars seemed to be blotted out, and she could hear the voice echoing over and over in her head...

"Jean?"

The voice was clutching at her, trying to consume her, wrapping itself around her like a snake...

"Jean?"

There were two sudden flashes of fire, bright and inescapable, almost like two eyes...

"Jean!"

The next thing Jean knew she was half-sitting half lying down in her bed, Scott sitting concernedly over her, watching her face anxiously. For an instant she couldn't remember where she was, or even where she ought to be. For an instant all she could remember was that voice. But then she registered exactly where she was and really saw Scott's face. Her stomach clenched.

"Scott!" She said, embarrassed. Had she shouted? How long had he been there? "Hey."

"Hey." He said uncertainly. His face was lined with worry. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a nightmare."

"Just a nightmare?" Scott asked, his eyes questioning, his entire face a worried query.

"Yeah. Don't worry. Why are you in here anyway? Where's Ororo? I didn't wake her up did I?" Jean sat up to scan the room, concerned, but a searing pain in her head and a flash of fire stopped her. She lay back down.

"Ororo came to get me. She said it sounded like you were having a really bad dream. You're sure you're all right?"

"I promise Scott." Jean said, but to her it sounded hollow. She was already making false promises.

"So what was the nightmare about?" Scott asked, probably receding onto what he thought was safer ground.

"Having a chartreuse and silver wedding." Jean teased, and then reached behind her head to fluff up the pillow. Scott fixed the covers around her with careful arms.

"Gonna be okay?" He asked with warmth in his voice, and she remembered exactly why she was marrying this guy.

"Yeah. Go back to bed. Get some sleep. And apologize to Ororo for me would you? I feel bad."

"Happens to all of us." He promised.

She almost laughed. Happens to all of us? Nightmares maybe. Evil voices in your head, probably not so much.

Jean didn't get to sleep for a long time because every time she closed her own eyes a pair of fiery ones flashed within her mind, looking as though they wanted to consume her.

* * *

_A/N: Finally, an update. I know, this absolutely should have been out sooner. Sorry everybody! Anyway, please let me know what you thought of it. :) _  



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